


You Reached Out Your Hand to Me

by TheFandomLesbian



Series: Angela's Raulson One-Shots [27]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Angst, Blind Cordelia, F/F, Fluff, foxxay - Freeform, goode-day, pre-Seven Wonders, raulson - Freeform, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 23:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17414702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFandomLesbian/pseuds/TheFandomLesbian
Summary: When her body loses its ability to tell days from nights, Cordelia struggles with insomnia. She isn't alone in her plight.





	You Reached Out Your Hand to Me

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt requesting Foxxay, pre-Seven Wonders, holding hands.

__ "So it's hard to find  
__ Someone with that kind of intensity  
_ You touched my hand, I played it cool  
_ __ And you reached out your hand for me .” -Fleetwood Mac, “Seven Wonders”

...

The late night settled on the academy like the angel of death bracing over the building with its harrowing darkness bringing a restless peace. Cordelia emerged from her bedroom with a soft sigh. Her body couldn’t tell days from nights anymore; without the sunlight to dictate the hours to her brain, everything had become a toss up. Whether or not she slept on a given night was a matter of rolling the dice. 

Tonight, her brain had decided it was not a good sleeping night. Cane in hand, she emerged from her bedroom, hoping to find some entertainment for her bored mind. Once, a lifetime ago, she had always read from her books until she was tired, and she had entertained herself with stories of the characters until she fell asleep, but no matter how she tried to decode the Braille guides Myrtle provided for her, she couldn’t make heads or tails of them. She wanted to  _ read  _ again. But reading wasn’t an option. 

Television was. So she began her slow procession down the stairs, tapping her way downward. She landed on the ground floor with a soft sigh. But the muted sound of voices from the television drew her attention.  _ I’m not the only one awake.  _ She tapped into the living room. “Hello?” she called hesitantly. She hadn’t expected anyone else to be awake at this hour. 

“Hey, Miss Cordelia.” Misty yawned. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?” 

“What? No, no…” Cordelia made her way over to Misty. She heard an inviting pat onto the cushion, and she sat beside the other woman. “No. I’ve been having trouble sleeping. What are you doing up?” 

To her surprise, Misty took her hand with the ease of a picking a flower. No one else touched Cordelia so freely. Misty did it without a second thought. The innocent touch played a slideshow of things from Misty’s mind across Cordelia’s. “I dunno. Couldn’t sleep, I guess. It’s kinda loud, here.” Cordelia frowned. She thought the house was as quiet as ever. “I mean… Just, the people. The auras. Bunch of energy. I don’t really know what to do with it, honestly.” Misty unspooled their fingers and folded them together in the most intimate grasp possible, mountains of knuckles leaving no space between them. Cordelia relished in the sensation of Misty’s warm palm against hers. “Thought I’d try to drown it all out with the stupid box.” 

Brows quirking, Cordelia asked, “The… stupid box?” 

“That’s what my mama called it. The TV.” 

“Oh.” Cordelia chuckled. It was cute--she liked it. Granted, she found that she liked almost everything pertaining to Misty. She loved the other woman’s faint accent and the softness of her frizzy curls when she brushed by. She loved the free-flowing nature of her clothing, how the sheer fabric touched her body and then wisped away like the wind. She loved how openly Misty grabbed her hand, how she didn’t mind making herself vulnerable for it. As she thought, she absently drew circles on the back of Misty’s hand with her thumb. “What are you watching?” 

“Infomercials. You wanna watch something else? I like watching all the people on the infomercials act all useless and stupid, but I scrolled through earlier and  _ The Golden Girls _ was on, and  _ Matlock _ was on another channel, and I betcha I could find  _ In the Heat of the Night _ or  _ Twilight Zone _ if I looked for ‘em.” 

_ Those are all old TV shows.  _ Cordelia didn’t remark upon it, but she wondered about Misty. She had a lot of questions for her, questions like,  _ Where are you from?  _ and  _ Where did you go?  _ and  _ Why did you hide? _ but she couldn’t bring herself to ask those questions. “Whatever you want to watch. It’s not like I’ll get much out of it, anyway.” She tried not to sound bitter, but she was bitter--she was  _ so bitter _ \--and she chewed her lower lip to keep from saying anything else. The Sight was helpful. It made her an asset to the coven. For the first time in her life, she served some kind of purpose. But goddamn, did she hate it with every fiber of her being. 

“Oh, sure you can.” Misty sidled up beside her, placing their joined hands in her lap. “Watch with me.” She flicked the station and turned up the volume a little--not enough to disturb the other girls upstairs, but enough so they could clearly hear the dialogue. Cordelia heard the familiar voice of Bea Arthur interrupting her thoughts. 

Then, the image shivered to the front of her mind--Dorothy pacing across the television screen to confront Rose. It surprised Cordelia, almost made her pull away from Misty’s hand, watching the screen through Misty’s eyes, and she could hear Misty’s thoughts, too.  _ Is this okay? _ Misty thought, and then,  _ Does she like it? I hope I didn’t mess up. I didn’t want to mess anything up.  _

Cordelia tilted her head to rest on Misty’s shoulder, burying her nose into her soft curls. “Thank you,” she whispered to Misty’s ear. Tingles ran down Misty’s spine. She hummed a vague approving note in return. Cordelia closed her eyes--there was no point in opening them ever--and rested there, watching  _ The Golden Girls _ with Misty until, abruptly, the picture vanished. 

Misty’s head landed on top of hers. A soft snore rattled out of her. Cordelia disentangled their fingers for the first time since she had sat down, and she fumbled across Misty’s lap for the remote control. She flicked off the television. Her movement jostled Misty, who snorted back into wakefulness. “Hm?” 

“Sh. Come here.” Cordelia guided Misty into her lap. “Get some sleep.” She expected Misty to resist, but she didn’t, settling her head easily into Cordelia’s lap. Heaps of curls piled up around her. 

Misty took one of her hands and settled it on her cheek. Cordelia explored her face with the invitation. She mapped the strange planes of Misty’s unfamiliar face--a face she had never seen and would never see. She touched the broad forehead, the wide eyes, the straight nose, the small lips, and she memorized them. Misty smiled into her palm. “Goodnight, Miss Cordelia.” 

_ She’s so beautiful.  _ “Goodnight, Misty.” 


End file.
